


Stay

by searchingwardrobes



Series: Fandom Birthday Playlist [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A little angst, Anti-Neal, F/M, Six Weeks Before Episode: s04e12 Darkness on the Edge of Town, a little fluff, equals fluffy angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 05:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17933492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: “I have a proposal, love.” He tugs her close, wrapping his arm around her, her head tucked under his chin. “You tell me every awful thing you falsely believe about yourself, and I’ll refute it eloquently.” Or how Killian Jones brought down Emma’s walls, one small brick at a time.





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sambethe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sambethe/gifts).



> Happy birthday, sambethe! 
> 
> This fic is based on the song “Stay” by Lisa Loeb. As a teen of the nineties, this is one that I know all the words to. Whenever it comes on the radio, I crank it up and sing (badly) at the top of my lungs! Listening to it the other day, it struck me that these could be Emma’s words about her relationship with Neal. The song is kind of contradictory – she talks about the guy wanting her to stay, yet the relationship is so unhealthy for her. Killian said he liked being the one to bring down Emma’s walls, but the show could only give us glimpses of how he did that. I like to call this “fluffy angst” though I don’t think that’s a thing! I incorporated lyrics of the song into the fic. Hope you like it, sambethe! 
> 
> Set during those six weeks of peace we all love so much.

In Emma Swan’s life, she always heard negative: no, no, bad. Early on she came to the only conclusion she could: she must be worthless. After all, foster parent after foster parent said so. Teachers said so. Kids at school said so. Even the adoptive parents who decided she wasn’t enough. 

So  it’s taking her some getting used to, the way her boyfriend is always so positive. Which is funny because, like her, he’s so cynical most of the time. But when it comes to her, it’s always, “You can do this, Swan” or “I have faith in you, Emma.” Even before they were anything to each other, he had called her brilliant and amazing. She isn’t used to it, and sometimes she shies away, gets uncomfortable. Even so, he doesn’t stop saying it.

One day, Killian took her out on his boat, and they stayed out until the stars lit the sky. The darkness and his arms around her, his chest a strength she could lean against, loosened her tongue and she told him about her relationship with Neal. Tears had slipped down her cheeks as she remembered how naïve Neal had believed her to be. “I thought that I was strong,” she whispered into the night.

Killian shifted so he could look into her eyes, though he had to gently tilt her chin to do so. “You were, Emma. You’d been living on the streets for years by then. You may have been young, but you weren’t naïve, and you certainly weren’t weak.”

His eyes searched hers, and she melted against him, because in the ocean blue depths she felt she saw herself reflected back. And she was not only beautiful, but strong and intelligent. 

Killian comes to mean so much to her that she can’t go a day without seeing him, can’t go an hour without talking to him or at least texting him. And yes, it still scares her a little, but not in the way she’s used to. She’s been with plenty of men who caught her because they wanted her, only to let her go once they had her. Like the married guy who Emma realized too late only saw her as a challenge. It’s what made her wary of Killian in the beginning; he was a pirate, after all. But now? Now she knows one thing at least: Killian Jones stays. 

It isn’t just that he’s put down roots in Storybrooke, either. It’s that no matter what a mess she is, no matter how she keeps him at arm’s length at times because of her scars, he still keeps showing up. He still keeps offering his heart. Emma’s done her fair share of being the one to leave, to cut things off. But it was ever only because she felt that, eventually, she’d be thrown away for the trash she was. Better to beat them to it. But Killian? He makes her feel the opposite of trash. The look in his eyes, even from across a crowded room make her believe she’s a treasure he would cross oceans for. 

And he has, actually.

One night they’re sitting on top of the hood of her Bug, looking out over Storybrooke. Killian is tracing the lines in her palm, making shivers race down her spine. Then he lifts it and kisses the buttercup tattoo on her wrist, his gaze intense beneath his lashes. It reminds her of the way he bandaged her hand on the beanstalk, and her breath hitches. 

“I have a proposal, love.”

The shiver goes all the way to her toes. She’ll never get tired of that accent or the timbre of his voice. 

“Oh?” she’s breathless, but she doesn’t care, even when he smirks.

He tugs her close, wrapping his arm around her, her head tucked under her chin. “You tell me every awful thing you falsely believe about yourself, and I’ll refute it eloquently.”

She chuckles even as she swallows nervously around a lump in her throat. “Eloquently?”

“Naturally.”

“But what if you believe it?” she whispers, hating that she sounds like a small child. “I mean, what if some of it is actually true?” 

“Impossible.”

A tiny half smile hitches the corner of her mouth. How does he always sound so damn sure? She releases a shaky breath. “Okay. I don’t belong. Anywhere.”

“You are a legend in Storybrooke, an irreplaceable hero, beloved daughter, devoted mother, and every single person in this town would gladly take a bullet for you.”

“Even Regina and Rumple?” Emma asks sardonically.

“Okay,” he concedes with a laugh, “almost everyone. And yes, even Grumpy.”

She reaches over to grasp his hook. He’s right. Storybrooke is her home, the first one she’s ever had. “I only hear what I want to. I don’t listen hard. I don’t pay attention.” 

“Who told you that, love?” he asks gently.

“Pretty much every teacher I ever had.”

“Well, I never had the privilege of attending school -”

“Not missing anything but snobs and bullies, believe me.”

“-but,” he continues without missing a beat, “I do know intelligence when I see it. You are one of the most observant people I’ve ever met. And if people thought you only heard what you wanted to, it’s only because you were protecting yourself the only way you knew how. No one knows the pain a child carries when they have no family Emma unless they’ve walked through it themselves.”

Emma pushes away from his embrace so she can look him in the face. His jaw is doing that clenching thing it does when he’s irked about something, and she melts realizing that he’s angry at anyone who would belittle her. 

“It’s in the past,” she tells him softly, massaging his jaws with both hands cupping his face.

“But it’s like I said, the scars of childhood tend to linger. So,” he turns to place a kiss on her palm, “any other bricks in that wall I need to take care of?”

“I was stupid to cry over him. I was weak to cry because he wouldn’t stay.”

He knows who she’s talking about. In the beginning she had hesitated to talk about Neal. Killian knew him as  Milah’s  son, as  Baelfire , the boy in Neverland. Yet when she’d finally broken down and laid it all bare, he only saw  _ her _ . What that meant was something Emma couldn’t even put into words.

Killian cups her face now, kisses her tenderly, then closes his eyes as he presses his forehead to hers. “You loved him,” he whispers, “there’s no shame in crying over lost love. Your ability to love is what makes you strong, Emma, not weak.”

She doesn’t know how he is able to express his feelings so eloquently; it certainly isn’t her strength. They have many of the same scars, yet his words just pour out of him.  Of course  . . . she pulls back. 

“Hey,” she says, shaking him slightly so he’ll open his eyes. “What about you? How about the lies in your head?”

A shadow falls across his face, and with it that charming, boyish smirk. It’s his armor, she’s learned that by now. 

“Perhaps another time, love.”

She lets it go, for now. Later that night she lays awake in his arms as he softly snores. His face his relaxed in sleep, vulnerable. As the moonlight illuminates the scar across his cheek, she traces it lightly with her finger. When she asked about the scar, where he had gotten it, he had shrugged it off with bravado, boasting about the many scars a pirate earns in battle. She knows because of her super power that it was a lie. She also knows the lie was harmless. Emma isn’t the only one with wounds from childhood. 

“One day,” she whispers to him, “we’ll take care of the lies  _ you  _ believe Killian Jones.”

He rolls towards her, gathering her in his arms, yet he’s still asleep.  _ Perhaps his heart heard me _ , she says to herself, then chuckles at her own attempt at flowery words. She’ll most likely get her words all messed up; they’ll probably come out all wrong, but one day she’ll make sure he knows what an amazing man he is. Mostly because . . . 

He stays. 

Such a short, simple word, but to Emma Swan, it’s everything. 


End file.
